


Birthdays

by pqlaertes



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Birthday, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pqlaertes/pseuds/pqlaertes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nigel's Birthday Challenge Drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Many Happy Returns

No cake, but so many candles.

Nickolas, sprawled in a chair, smiled a moment ago, as precious a gift as anything that could be in the little wrapped box pressed from one white hand into another.

Sound of wind, leather, silk, and then Janette is in his arms, marking his cheek with lipstick and holding him tight. She pins a brooch in the shape of a dragon at his collar, deliberately pricking him, delicately licking away the drop of blood.

In the doorway he sees a tiny figure, her eyes exactly like his own. Finally, all his children are together.

 

 

=1994=


	2. And For Her

Velvets.

Silks.

Diamonds.

Kisses.

A flask carved of emerald, filled with attar of roses.

More kisses.

Dresses.

Three DaVinci sketches of her face, quarter view, full view, three quarter view, lost to the world for three hundred years.

A black Jaguar.

Immortality.

After a thousand years of birthday presents, what is left to give?

What do you get for the woman who has everything?

What can you do for the woman who is everything?

The prodigal demands time, the loyal, only kisses. I am sure she understands.

But . . .

I sought her out and told her I loved her no less.

 

=1994=


	3. A Real Pleasure, Don

The round face, the concerned eyes, the relieved smile, reassured that there was nothing wrong with his partner.

And now, red tears.

The garlic scent, the rude laugh, the complete trust.

And today, grief.

The fat hands, the frustrated sigh, the shock of sudden, unlooked-for cleverness.

There would have been a cake today, and a mysterious present, I think, to a good cop from the de Brabant foundation; a new car, perhaps.

My son has lost his best friend.

But I will not go too near, because my son believes in guilt, and in penance. Today Nickolas is eating souvlaki.

 

=1995=


	4. With Greatest Admiration

Chocolate cake makes you fat. So does ice cream.

I warn you, his kiss is probably equally sweet, equally unhealthy.

Nickolas' boquet is on the coffeetable, a handful of dasies and daffodils plucked from where they grew wild. It is what he likes to think he would have brought his lady-love on a sweet summer day, long ago, had he been a mortal man.

Everywhere, surrounding the fading wildflowers, I have put white roses in crystal vases.

And, in a bucket of ice, a bottle of champagne, just for old times' sake.

Not inappropriate, I assure you. Roses also die.

 

=1994=


End file.
